Harry Potter and the Star Child
by saminstrings
Summary: Harry has just discovered he is a wizard, and now attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He meets several new people, including one violet eyed blonde named Lakoda Sioux. She's endearing, but there is something undeniably wicked about her.
1. Prologue

**Harry Potter and the Star Child**

Prologue

THE air was stiff with anticipation as the elderly man and woman awaited the arrival of the grisly man with the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Son of Lily and James Potter, born July 31st, 1980. The ebony, midnight sky was blacker than ever, but the sympathetic moon cast a blue light over the dim Privet Drive. The man, with a silver beard and mane long enough to use as a blanket, was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. The woman, with pitch black hair and square spectacles on her eyes, was named Professor Minerva McGonagall. The man they awaited, Rubeus Hagrid, was to bring them Harry Potter, who had been attacked by Tom Riddle (or Lord Voldemort) only moments ago.

"Are you sure we should trust Hagrid with such a thing? He has been known to be a bit... Careless at times. Wouldn't you agree?" The nervous, but kind witch asked the patient wizard.

"Nonsense. I would trust Hagrid with my life, Minerva." Dumbledore reassured her. Almost as though it had been timed, Hagrid arrived on the obnoxiously loud, blue motorcycle. After exiting the noisy vehicle, he gingerly picked up not one, but two snugly wrapped bundles. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall looked at him curiously.

"Dumbledore! I was juss 'bout ready ter leave, when I hear me thees cry. I look around meself, and then I see this here child," he says, nodding towards the second, purple bundle. "She be there, all lone, so I bring 'er along... I think she's Tom's daughter." Hagrid said, looking rather spooked. Dumbledore moved aside a corner of the blanket, revealing the child's face. Beautiful, she was. Her large eyes were the most stunning shade of violet, and her hair was the shade of moonlight. Her rosy lips were slightly parted as she rested in the Headmaster's arms. Hagrid seemed almost afraid of the child, but Dumbledore looked upon her with just as much love as he offered to every one of his students.

"Hagrid... Our family does not determine who we are. She will become a great witch, alongside our Harry Potter," he says, handing the purple bundle to Professor so can take the second, blue bundle into his arms. A gently restless face is uncovered, revealing brilliant green eyes, and pitch black hair. Dumbledore smiled down on the child, before placing him, along with a note, in front of the miserable house's door. Dumbledore seemed to think for a moment as he looked at the violet eyed baby girl in Minerva's arms.

"We certainly can't leave her with Harry... She will come with us. She shall be raised at Hogwarts. Although the rules don't exactly allow it, I'm sure we can make an exception to this poor orphan child." Dumbledore says, and Professor McGonagall began to protest before ultimately agreeing it was the best thing for both children.

"Well, what's her name?" Hagrid asks. Dumbledore thinks for a moment, before searching the baby girl's blanket for any clue as to what her name might be. And he not only finds a clue, but her actual name stitched in silver calligraphy.

"Her name is Lakoda Sioux."

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><p><strong>Well, there's the prologue! Let me know what you thought. (:<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**Harry Potter and the Star Child  
><strong>

**Chapter One**

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><p>LAKODA Sioux was just inches away from finally perfecting her very first potion, the Cure for Boils. It had taken her several attempts to figure out that the book was very obscure in meaning, and instead of doing everything at once, and starting with the brew in the cauldron, she was to first start crushing the snake fangs in the mortar. She smiles, and waves her wand, expecting the satisfactory, grey mist to arise from her pewter cauldron. But instead, she gets the thick, grimy, green smoke she had got her first several attempts. She shrieks to herself, but when Professor came up to her, he waved a finger.<p>

"Do not be upset with the cauldron, Miss Sioux. Be upset only with your carelessness and blind sight," he says, and walks off. Lakoda crushes a horned slug in her hand, and allows the greasy slime crawl between her fingers. She feels a horn stab her in the palm, but she doesn't pay mind to it. Instead, in spite of herself, she goes to give the potion another go. After repeating the process, she manages to get it right, but the tiny phial she receives of it is hardly rewarding. In all actuality, it was demeaning more than anything. But, she smiles as to appease her classmates and instructor, and proceeded to gather her things (along with the phial) and returned to the common room of Slytherin (the house in which the hat placed her in), and sat herself in a plush, black chair.

Draco Malfoy was an oddball indeed. Narcissism was often the only thing one could see in him, but underneath, if they were to look deeper, they would see a scared little boy. Perhaps this was one of the reasons Lakoda was so fascinated by him. His shell was a though one to creed indeed, but once you peeled off one layer of grime, you came loser to seeing the gem inside him. It was sad really, how absolutely brilliant he could be, and yet he submits himself to his parent's will, whom are both Death Eaters, subjects of the Dark Lord. Lakoda offers a small smile as Draco glances over, and he begins to return it, when one of the other Slytherin students pokes him on the arm. Malfoy's scowl quickly returns to his still underdeveloped features, and continues on to follow the rest of the house. Word is is that there is a new student, and Lakoda is immediately taken with the name. Harry Potter. Suddenly, a hissing voice invades Lakoda's thoughts. A voice that is not her own. A voice that she has never heard before. A voice she loves. A voice that scares her out of her wits.

"Potter... Get him," the phrase almost seams to repeat itself, and overlap with each statement. Lakoda screams into a pillow, desperate for the snake-like voice to leave her be. She sits there, desperately clutching onto the throw when finally, the harsh sound disappears. Lakoda, breathing deeply, puts the pillow down, and stands from her spot. Feeling anxious and nauseous, she quickly runs after Draco and the rest of her classmates. Anything to drown out the final echos of the snake in her head.

The first years are just starting to gather in line inside the Great Hall. Those who're not new students take their seats according to their house. Lakoda, Draco, and several others are second years. Lakoda skipped her first year of schooling because she already knew so much. Draco passes a smile to her as he takes his seat, his blue eyes sharp against the baby-like features of his face.

"Look, there he is," voices say urgently. Lakoda follows the many gazes, and when she sees him, she's filled with a strange sensation. It was like hate and love working against each other in her chest, leaving her feeling nothing but frightened of her own extreme feelings. She wanted to wring his neck, but all the while wanted to protect him from harm. His green eyes resemble the deep green of a Washington spring, and his jet black hair tumbles across his forehead, insufficiently covering the still deep red scar. The lightning bolt mark is a stark against his ivory of his skin. He's short, shy, but adventuresome and determined. He's... Beautiful.

"The boy who lived." It's like a breathe across her lips, and she's unaware she's said anything until she hears a scoff from the left of her.

"Boy who lived. More like boy who got lucky," Draco says, the scowl forever imprinted on his face. And for just a moment, Lakoda contemplates on whether she'll kill Draco, or leave him for the Demeantors; of course, doing the latter would be unproductive, considering Draco often seemed to not have a heart, and certainly not a soul.

"His name is Harry Potter, and you'd better use it. He belongs to the Dark Lord and I'm sure he wouldn't want someone so... Ordinary to possess other names in trade of his real one. That would be comparing him to the most powerful dark wizard of all time. If you enjoy your neck, I suggest you best do what you can to keep it," one of the other, kinder Slytherin house members suggests. She's very thin, and her skin is of caramel shading, and her lustrous dark hair tumbles down in waves behind her back. But her eyes, large and black with long, dark lashes, are most captivating.

"Gryffindor!" the sorting hat exclaims, and as Harry, grinning with excitement and pride, moves to sit with his new friends, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. The only one of his new acquaintances that Lakoda didn't consider a blithering idiot was Hermione. The bushy haired girl is intelligent, quick on her toes, and eager to do as needed to be accepted. She caught on quickly to the ways of Hogwarts, this much is evident when she rolls her eyes at the shock on the boy's faces when food suddenly appears on their plates.

"This'll be interesting, indeed," Draco said, his eyes narrowing in on the four first years. He himself is supposed to be enjoying his first year here at The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but his narcissistic father, Lucius, demanded that his son be placed with the older crowd of students. Yes, the Malfoy family had all been Slytherins indeed.

Dinner is loud, joyous, even. But the talk of "the boy who lived" gets old rather quickly, and Lakoda wishes she were in her cozy warm bed, reading the novel that had been sent anonymously to her for her birthday. It's a lovely story about a young boy and girl who were forbidden to be together because of their family names, but their love was so strong they committed suicide to bask in eternal life together. The binding is fragile, worn with age and Lakoda is certain it's forbidden to be reading such tales at school, but it brings out such compassion her she can't seem to quite put it down. Professor McGonagall is aware of her possession of the book, but she hasn't spoken to the other headmasters or headmistresses.

Suddenly feeling very tired, Lakoda somehow manages to sneak out of the Great Hall, and slips inside the girl's powder room. She is startled by the shrill giggle of Moaning Myrtle, and presses a hand to her heart from fright. Lakoda has no problem with the ghosts of Hogwarts, except Moaning Myrtle... And perhaps The Grey Lady.

"Oh, poor little miss Lakoda. All alone. No one to rendezvous with. Oh, but it's okay, I understand for I myself was just a mere student among the prime," she says, before spinning the opposite direction, and heading off to wail in her usual stall. The stall where she died. Lakoda swallows, and after contemplating to herself for several long moments, leaves the eerie restroom, and finds herself in the library. At first, she's expecting to just browse for just a few minutes, and then leave. But instead, she finds herself in the Restricted Section, and finds herself quite taken with a journal-sized book on one of the lower shelves. The binding is aged, but still solid and seemingly untouched. The purple, leather cover is fresh and eye-catching in the midst of the brown, worn out encyclopedias. She slowly walks towards it, almost cautiously. She takes it into her hands, and the gold, elegant font on the front cover greets her eyes like warm chocolate to her tongue. The title read _Children of the Stars_. Lakoda opened the book, and was met with a nonsense mix of Roman incantations. But before she had the time to make sense of the foreign phrases, the text vanished into the page, and instead the ivory paper presented her very own reflection.

Lakoda was so frozen with surprise, that she almost didn't notice the elegant script appear on the page next to her reflection. _Star child number six; daughter of T.M.R. and Elise (ET)._

Extra... Terrestrial?

"Who am I?" she whispers, and when she feels a hand on her shoulder, Lakoda knows there's something her family here at Hogwarts has neglected to tell her. She turns around to face Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and peers at him questioningly before he finally smiles gently and says, "Follow me." Of course, she follows him. They go to his headquarters, and there she takes in the serene environment of what she assumed she should call his office. His phoenix was perched casually on its pedestal, and Lakoda smiled at it, and he (or she) smiled back. Once Dumbledore had taken his seat, Lakoda shifted so she could speak with him eye to eye.

"Headmaster... The journal..." she drifts, knowing subconsciously what she wants to ask, but the real question refuses to form in her head. But no need for her to fret, as Dumbledore already knew.

"Yes. Quite exquisite, isn't it? Quite... Revealing," he says, looking pointedly at her. "Lakoda. As you very well known, you were found lost by Hagrid. I'm remorseful to inform you that we weren't quite... Honest about your origin. You parents aren't... Normal, per say..." he falters, as though not sure if he should be going through with this, but thinks better of it and continues on. "Your father... His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

It takes a moment to register, but when it does, I feel a storm of every possible emotion erupting, swirling inside me. I want to scream, laugh, cry. I'm scared, I'm relieved, I'm lost, and I know exactly where I am. My father is The Dark Lord. He-Whom-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Tom Riddle. You-Know-Who. Lord Voldemort. I don't realize that I'm shaking until I speak.

"And my mother?" I ask, and Dumbledore hesitates at this.

"We're not quite sure... But... A letter arrived for you just a day after we found you. It was from a woman named Elise, and she called herself the Mother of the Stars. After looking further into things... Well, there is no one in muggle or wizard history regarding an Elise or the Mother of the Stars," he explains the best he can. But I don't care if they couldn't pull up any information. All I need him to tell me is, "We don't know." But I know. I know who the Mother of the Stars is. I know who I am. I studied science theories, extra terrestrial theories, and other things of the sort while spending time in the muggle world last summer. My mother is an alien. My father is a wizard, but the body composition of a warlock is the same as a human unless altered through spell or potion. The... Mating, so to speak, of an alien and a human is known as the Seventh Kind of encounter between a muggle and extra terrestrial. The outcome? Kids like me.

I'm a Star Child.


End file.
